


but if i am not yours (what am i?)

by koisurufortunecookie



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia), F/F, Female Midoriya Izuku, Female Todoroki Shouto, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Multi, Trans Asui Tsuyu, Trans Bakugou Katsuki, Transphobia, its the handmaids tale. you know the drill., more characters will be added as they appear - Freeform, nothing overly graphic will be shown just bc im not overly comfortable with that, the 1A kids are 16 and several of them are handmaids for considerably older men so uh Y'Know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:55:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22325008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koisurufortunecookie/pseuds/koisurufortunecookie
Summary: She was Todoroki. She is Ofondo.She was Midoriya. She is Martha.It's been three years since Gilead rose in the place of Japan. That's three years for Shouko Todoroki to accept her role in the narrative, to settle into a new name, a new family, a new world. This is the rest of her life.Falling in love with a former classmate-turned-domestic-servant throws quite the wrench into things.
Relationships: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto, Todoroki Shouto/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	1. may the lord open

**Author's Note:**

> "for the love of god PLEASE fucking write something that isn't sexism + genderbend related for once" 
> 
> you fool. this is all im qualified to do at this point.
> 
> Anyways, hello! You might know me as that weirdo who's way too into fem!TDDK for her own good! I'm back again with some very predictable content, this time based off The Handmaid's Tale. I've always found the whole universe of Gilead to be overflowing with story possibilities, so it was only natural I'd combine it with BNHA at some point. Some notes before we start...
> 
> \- This is, as the tags suggest, a Quirkless AU. Weird anime hair colours remain, but anything non-human is not present. Mina's not pink, Tokoyami has a human head, etc.  
> \- I'd recommend some basic knowledge of The Handmaid's Tale before diving in. Just things like what each role means (Handmaid, Martha, Unwoman, etc), base knowledge of Gilead (it's a Christian fundamentalist state, to put it simply), and so on. This article covers most important terms: https://www.cosmopolitan.com/entertainment/tv/a9549965/the-handmaids-tale-terms-glossary/  
> \- You should also have seen at least a few episodes of My Hero Academia to understand who these characters are!  
> \- It's worth noting that I've both read the original novel plus seen the TV series, but it has been a while! I may make an error here or there regarding some of Gilead's worldbuilding. My apologies if I do!  
> \- This is The Handmaid's Tale- there will ALWAYS be heavy themes of sexism, sexual violence, homophobia, transphobia, religious fundamentalism, and other potentially triggering topics. I'll always warn you ahead of time in the author's notes, but please be careful anyways.  
> \- I'm carrying over an OC or two from my more prominent fem!TDDK fic, but you don't need to know anything about that to read this story.
> 
> This first chapter is mainly just setting the scene and establishing what our cast is up to, but this is just the first chapter. We'll get to the normal story soon. With that, please enjoy!

Her name is Ofondo.

This is what she reminds herself of every morning. She is Ofondo, and she is lucky to be Ofondo. Commander Hideomi Ondo reminds her of this with a grin that makes her sick to her stomach every time. She is scarred, has been since Gilead was implemented. Her mother could have lived a comfortable, cushy life with her Commander husband. But Ofondo was never like her older sister- she was not barren, and had been vocal about her disgust with the gradual power creep of fundamentalism. She was marked. In an attempt to save her from the worst possible fate, her mother had chosen to become an Unwoman doomed to die in the Colonies as she tipped a pot of boiling water over her daughter’s face.

It turns out that a scalded Handmaid was still of use. Within days of her hospital stay, she had found herself pried from the arms of her siblings and forced into a stock car with countless other terrified women ( _not women,_ **_girls_ ** _, she was only thirteen, god help her)_ to the Red Center for training.

It is three years since everything changed, and she is Ofondo. Her split toned hair is pulled into a bun. She is Ofondo. A white bonnet is placed, sides like horse blinders atop her head. She is Ofondo. Her crimson red dress and cloak declare her as an incubator, the one held down during the ceremony. She is Ofondo.

_(She takes a kitchen knife and carves the kanji for Shouko on the underside of the bed. She doesn’t want to forget. She doesn’t want to be like Ofueda next door. Ofondo does not know if that girl remembers that she was once Momo Yaoyorozu. If she does, she does a damn good job of hiding it. All she does is smile in a way that never reaches her eyes, parroting Bible verses they’ve all memorized by heart. Ofondo wants to shake her, scream that_ you were the top of our class you were an outspoken feminist you were my friend what the fuck happened to you, _but she does not.)_

Her classmates from pre-Gilead Japan aren’t as scattered as she expected them to be. Most are fairly close by, actually. Musutafu has never been large. Ofueda is just next door, of course, and serves the ‘adoptive parents’ _(kidnappers)_ of the boy Ofondo used to know as their endearing geek of a class president. She sees Tenya, the boy taken from his parents and gifted as a Son to the Ueda’s, over the backyard fence sometimes, gets to talk with him about Ofueda and their family’s respective Marthas’. Sometimes, when it’s dark enough out, they lower their voices and whisper about the past, about mystery novels and school festivals and class Kahoot battles. In even quieter tones, as secret as if they were exchanging recipes for pipe bombs, he quizzes Ofondo in the subjects they used to study together. She’s grateful for him. She doesn’t want to forget the days when her education wasn’t a crime.

It’s not just him and Ofueda. At the end of their street, where the Commanders fizzle out into the ordinary citizens, Ochako lives in one of the prettier homes. She makes a point to greet Ofondo with a smile and a hello when their paths cross, decked out in greys or whites or some combination of the two. The fluffy brown hair Ofondo used to covet back in school is usually pulled back and hidden under a white cap much different from her own. Ofondo sometimes finds herself wondering how the boy her old friend wound up married off to- she can never remember his name- treats her. It’s not like he exactly had a choice in marriage either. He was an older student at their school before everything broke down, anxious and cripplingly shy even before the rise of Gilead. He walks alongside his little Econowife with his head down, a mournful look almost hidden by shaggy black hair, and Ofondo at least finds herself reassured that he’s likely not taking any liberties with Ochako when he can’t even muster up the courage to greet her without a stutter.

She’s got a vague idea of where many of her old friends reside. She’s seen Kaminari (or whatever his new last name must be) walking around with his ‘adoptive parents’ _(again, his kidnappers- what happened to the little siblings he used to talk about so cheerfully? They aren’t ever with him)_ downtown sometimes. His former sunny expression is marred with well-hidden misery, but Ofondo knows how to spot that sort of thing from a mile away. She doesn’t know what name the girl formerly known as Mina Ashido bears now, but she’s spotted tanned skin and a shock of pink hair behind a Handmaid’s bonnet as she walks alongside an older girl dressed identically, that one vaguely familiar with her pinned back blue hair and cute face bearing exhausted features far too early. The other Handmaid went to their school too, an upperclassman. Hadou, if her memory serves her properly. While she _technically_ shouldn’t know where Bakugou and Asui went… Well. Ofondo was cisgender, and she'd never let any hint of her real sexuality slip. But those two had been permitted to start presenting as their preferred gender the year before everything came crashing down. About a week before the official start of the civil war, they’d both been called out of class and down to the principal’s office.

That was three years ago. It was the last time Ofondo ever saw them. Asui is with zero doubt in the Colonies for her ‘crimes’, and Ofondo doesn’t know if it’s kinder to hope that Bakugou is there with her or if she should pray he’s being spared that slow death and has been punished for his own ‘Gender Treachery’ with a position as a Handmaid. Either way is a truly miserable existence, so she’s honestly not sure she wants to know.

There’s others she recognizes, like that girl from the other class with the braided green hair who’d always been so vocally in favour of Gilead. She lives a few houses down as the newly married Wife of a Commander, their Handmaid a woman with blonde hair and angry purple eyes that Ofondo vaguely recognizes as a local model before the fall of Japan. Yuu… Yuu something. It’s really not important anymore. There’s the way the Martha she always runs into at the grocery store swears up and down that Ofondo’s beloved older sister is a Wife the next town over, and Ofondo isn’t sure if she likes that or not- it’s the most comfortable life possible for Fuyumi, but… Her sister was always so sweet, so caring. She can’t imagine the guilt that must come with being the one forced to grab a Handmaid’s wrists and hold her down. She’s also heard whispers of Hagakure and her family having made it to the freedom of Hokkaido just before the rest of Japan broke down and rose back up as Gilead. Ofondo can’t verify it, but she sincerely hopes it’s true. 

And then, of course, there’s the Martha belonging to the Ondo family. The one that Ofondo sat a few seats back from once upon a time, the girl genius with a passion for American superhero comics and a heart so full of love that she managed to break through Ofondo’s walls even back then. The barren girl who barely escaped life as an Unwoman after locking herself in the student council room and shredding the medical files of female students at their school on the last day of Japan to try and prevent their fertility status from being easily accessible to the Guardians entering the building. She gave more than a few teachers and students enough time to escape through windows and vents as their files were being pieced back together, and Ofondo suspects the girl’s divorcee mother instantly offering herself up as a Handmaid is the only reason this foolish, selfless girl isn’t dying in the Colonies. Now she serves the residents of the Ondo house. Her rough cloth headscarf does little to cover fluffy green hair cropped around her chin, and her apron always seems stained no matter how recently it was washed. Her eyes are always moving, thoughts always brewing behind emerald green, and her youthful chubby cheeks remained even as the rest of her grew into the body of a sixteen year old.

Her name is Martha 0715-2014. But what matters is that she was once Izumi Midoriya.  
  
"Um. Ofondo?"  
  
The bicoloured girl snaps to attention. Midor- _Martha_ is standing in the doorway, hands folded awkwardly together. As per usual, there's what looks like flour splattered past the boundary of her apron and onto her faded green dress. Her head is cocked, biting at her lip as she looks into Ofondo's private (well, relatively private- the door doesn't lock) quarters. Had she left the door open? Ofondo realizes she's been sitting on the edge of her bed and staring at her hands for... She actually doesn't know. She does this pretty often- just stops what she's doing and stares without actually seeing. Miss Wakana- the Wife of Commander Ondo- has expressed how strange she finds it, and Ofondo has taken a slap or two in the face over it before. It's a nasty habit, but she doesn't care enough to try and change it. Martha gulps awkwardly at her silence. "I've, uh, been calling you for a while."  
  
"So you have." Ofondo allows her gaze to travel slowly to Martha, the other girl cringing under her gaze. "What is it?"  
  
Clearing her throat a bit, Martha brings her hands up across her chest. Ofondo doesn't think she does it on purpose- Miss Wakana has very publicly berated the domestic servant for her 'whorish figure' and how she would 'tempt innocents' if she didn't watch herself. Ofondo gets some flack from her too, but not nearly as bad as Martha, unfortunate enough to have developed much faster than the majority of girls their age. She seems like she covers herself up without thinking about it now. "I checked the schedule. The Ceremony is tonight."  
  
She shouldn't feel the twinge of irritation that she does. It's really not Martha's fault that she's supposed to help track Ofondo's menstrual cycle, but it feels like a violation of her privacy anyways. In any case, she knew it too- this was her fertile window. Best chance of conception. "The Commander and Miss Wakana aren't home yet."  
  
"N-No, but they will be in an hour or so." All of this was a rough estimate- reading clocks as a woman wasn't nearly as bad as reading books, but it was still frowned upon. Martha swallowed visibly, standing a little taller. "Do... Do you want me to help you wash up?"

Ofondo could do it by herself. She knew that. The bath before The Ceremony was usually quiet, introspective. Some time alone to reflect on the fact that she was about to lie in a married woman's lap while her husband fucked her. Fun stuff, really. Normally, she'd just shake her head, go let Martha do whatever it was she had to do (the chores always seemed neverending despite being a house of only four). But... 

_"Todoroki, have I ever told you how pretty your hair is?"_

_Shouko blinked, raising her eyes from her paper. Red and white hair shifted from her shoulders, dangling over her chest and mingling with the crimson tie of her school uniform. Sunlight streamed through the classroom window, illuminating the girl next to her. Midoriya held her English workbook against her chest, looking at Shouko with a smile. "My hair's always so frizzy, but yours is so silky... Do you use a special conditioner?"_

She'd been staring again. Ofondo inhaled sharply, feeling her fists clench in her lap. She raised her head, meeting Martha's eyes. They were not in a classroom. They were not Todoroki and Midoriya of UA Middle School. They were not teenage girls making conversation. But... If she let her eyes wander, she could pretend. For a minute, she could dream. "... Alright. Thank you, Martha."

The other girl's lips form into a shaky smile at her response. "It's not a problem, Ofondo. I'll run the bath."


	2. bury me in your memory, i'm not the girl i ought to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again!
> 
> I thought about making a list of triggers found in this chapter, but... It's the Handmaid's Tale. Some specific scenes from the book/TV series are repeated here. If I made a list of potentially upsetting content, it would probably be longer than the chapter. So please, READ WITH CAUTION! We're well past TPOMM levels of upsetting.

Ofondo idly swirled a fingertip in the bathwater, soap twirling around the digit. From beside her, Martha gently wrapped a hand around her wrist, removing it from the water and lifting her arm straight up. There was the gentle feeling of cream being applied to her armpit before the smaller girl dipped her razor in the water, bringing it up to shave away coarse red hairs. It didn’t feel particularly necessary, considering her long sleeved dress stayed on during the whole process. “You know nobody sees my upper half during the Ceremony.”

In the corner of her eye, Ofondo could see Martha cock her head as the razor stilled. It was unusual not having her peripheral vision blocked off by her bonnet. “I… Didn’t know that. Isn’t it… Well. Sex?”

Right, Martha would have never had the chance to see it, would she? It wasn’t like she has any way to access information on it- no books or internet access for women- and a Martha wouldn’t have been in the Red Center where the Handmaids were trained at any point. “The Ceremony is sex in the same way an instruction manual is reading material. My dress gets lifted up a bit below my pelvis, but that’s as much skin is shown.”

“Oh.” Martha pauses, lowering the razor away and going for the shampoo bottle. “That’s all pretty impersonal.”

Ofondo finds herself nodding subconsciously in agreement. “It is. Commander Ondo tried to push back my bonnet once, but Miss Wakana slapped his hand away.”

There’s the _plop_ of the shampoo bottle being dropped in the bathwater as Martha fumbles it, stumbling over her words. “Wha- Miss Wakana is there _during_ it?!”

She’d been shocked too, first learning about how exactly the Ceremony was supposed to proceed. By now, though, it had been going on long enough to reduce the disgust down to a gentle simmer, and Ofondo simply shrugs as Martha hurried to retrieve the shampoo and squirt some into her hand. “I lay my head in her lap, and she holds onto my wrists. It’s supposed to be as if we’re one person- of the same flesh, or something like that.”

Saying it out loud always made her want to roll her eyes. Martha squeaked nervously, and Ofondo closed her eyes as the other girl hurriedly worked shampoo into her hair, feeling the fingers against her scalp. “That’s… Um. Wow. I didn’t know.”

“Did the Handmaid at your old home not say anything?” Ofondo cracked open an eye. This was actually only Martha’s second month here- the previous Ondo household Martha had been caught in an affair with a married Guardian of the Faith, resulting in both their Salvagings- but this Martha had still been living with a family since the start of Gilead.

The smaller girl shook her head, moving for the removable shower head at the end of the tub. “No. Ofnibu was a bit… Out there. She always just called it sex when talking to me.”

That name sure brought up memories. Everyone knew about the incident at Commander Nibu’s estate- the Handmaid apparently fell in love with him. Then, for reasons she never explained, she killed both him and his Wife. Ofondo remembered overhearing another gossiping pair of Wives while she was out at the market, how the Martha ( _the very Martha now rinsing out her hair_ , she mentally noted) had returned from shopping to see Ofnibu lovingly cradling the Commander’s bloodied corpse in her arms. The only reason the murderer hadn’t yet been Salvaged was due to her being two months pregnant at the time. It had sent a ripple of shock through the entire city, but it only really affected Ofondo by virtue of the Nibu’s Martha being transferred to them to replace their newly-Salvaged domestic servant. And now, here they were. “I see.”

“... She wasn’t so bad.” Martha’s next words are quiet, almost inaudible under the water rushing past Ofondo’s ears. “I-I mean, what she did was awful! But… Ofnibu wasn’t a monster. The first two weeks or so that she was in the Nibu’s, we talked a lot. She told me she was worried about what would happen now that she didn’t have access to her medications and therapy, and… Well. I honestly expected her to snap a lot sooner. But she was really nice to me, and she helped me cook and clean. I liked Himiko. Um. Ofnibu, I mean.”

Ofondo stiffened slightly as Martha moved for the conditioner. “If you don’t think of Handmaids by our Commander-given names, you’ll slip up in front of the wrong person and get both you and her in trouble.”

The other girl squeaked a bit at the minor scolding, hurrying to massage the conditioner against Ofondo’s scalp, red and white intersecting. “R-Right. Sorry, Todor- Ofondo! I meant Ofondo!”

“Seriously?” Ofondo sighed, shifting away from the hands in her hair. “You already know Miss Wakana looks for every opportunity to go after either of us. I only think of you as Martha for your own sake. Only think of me as Ofondo.”

Martha stumbled over her words as if she was trying to come up with some kind of excuse for her misstep before stopping all together. “I… Right. It’s just.. With how we knew each other before-“

Ofondo abruptly stood up in the tub, water dripping down her body as she moved to get out. “I’m going to finish the rest in the shower. Thank you for your assistance, Martha.” She couldn’t stand thinking about the old world, the happiness of being a middle school student in a class full of goofy kids, the knowledge that she could do whatever she pleased in the future. She just couldn’t start remembering her previous life while also preparing to lie in a woman’s lap while her husband fucked her. Ofondo knew her mind had threatened to shut down completely over less. She couldn’t bear it. 

The other girl tripped over several incomprehensible words as Ofondo moved for the shower stall at the other end of the room, and the Handmaid paused as her hand grasped the sliding door. It was like she was trying to find the words to explain herself, tripping over sentences and justifications before stopping herself, pausing before sighing deeply. “... You’re welcome, Ofondo. May the Lord open.”

It was a sad sign of the times, the defeat in that quiet tone. The girl from before would have never backed down like that- she was always the type who wouldn’t stop until justice was served, until she’d done everything she could to save you. But this was Gilead, and she was Martha now. If she hadn’t learned to resign herself to silence in the face of something as comparatively minor as ritualized rape, she wouldn’t have survived as long as she did. Neither of them would have. Shouko stood silently, contemplating the cool air of the bathroom on her damp skin before moving into the shower. “Blessed be the fruit.”

* * *

“Dutiful as always, I see.”

From where she knelt on the pillow in front of the fireplace, Ofondo cringed. She’d known who had to have opened that creaky door behind her just now, but… She’d been hoping otherwise. She tilted her head back to look at Commander Ondo, the man standing over her with a deceptively friendly smile and his hands in his suit pockets.

On the surface, Ondo wasn’t so bad. He was the youngest original Commander at only thirty years old, so Ofondo at least didn’t share poor Ofueda’s fate of being assigned to a man pushing fifty. He was also quite handsome, with his strong jaw, gentle gold eyes, and dark blue hair immaculately groomed into a business-like style. Ofondo could also honestly say he’d never hit her or even verbally abused her- a light scolding here or there, but given the father she’d grown up under and his stance on physical and emotional punishments, that was pure heaven. She shouldn’t complain.

… Well, maybe it was more that she _couldn’t_ complain. The ways in which Ondo was despicable weren’t the type she could so easily call out, at least not without shame threatening to overtake her. What was she supposed to do back when she was thirteen, in her sixth month of living as their Handmaid, when he invited her to come sit in the backyard swing with him and watch the sunset? What was she supposed to do other than continue to quietly stare at the changing skies when he lifted her long dress up, hand roaming between her legs and past cotton panties? What was she supposed to do as she endured three years of touches where nobody else could see?

Sometimes, she had odd recurring dreams. About a world of superheroes, wild powers, fighting with her classmates. Maybe the girl from those dreams would push back. But heroes weren’t real. Ofondo was. And she couldn’t do a damn thing.

Ofondo realized she’d been quiet for a bit too long, and works to steady her breath. “You know Miss Wakana will be upset if she sees you in here early.”

Not like Miss Wakana would be upset with Ondo over this- she’d direct her anger at Ofondo, at the ‘harlot’ and her ‘seduction’. It had been like that since she’d come here, really. As if the terrified, freshly scarred, thirteen year old Handmaid was some conniving temptress hell bent on stealing her husband away. Ondo nodded, making his way over to pat the girl on the head. “I’ll only be a minute. Just checking in to see if you were preparing.”

She had been doing just that, kneeling on a pillow with her hands clasped in prayer. Ofondo had given up on the concept of a merciful god a long time ago, but nobody could tell that she wasn’t actually pleading to some deity for a healthy pregnancy. “Well, you’ve seen me now.”

The man chuckled, hand stopping atop her head. Ofondo was suddenly thankful for the bonnet separating her hair from him. “You’re wonderfully devout. I’m certain the Lord will bless us all soon. He owes us an apology after all we’ve been through.”

Ofondo instantly knew what he was referring to. Handmaids usually only stayed with a Commander and his Wife for two years. If they couldn’t conceive at that point, they’d be shipped off to the next family to try again. And yet, she’d been here for three years and two months. The reasoning behind her extended stay was a tragic one. Exactly one year and a half into Gilead, something finally stuck and her pregnancy was confirmed. It was a joyous affair for everyone but her- she was just fourteen. It was a terrifying prospect, carrying a new life into the world while still a child in her own right. Even so, she thinks she would have preferred that to the awful morning six months in when she woke up in a puddle of blood and crying in agony. Turns out her fears had been founded. 

Just because you were menstruating, it didn’t mean your young body necessarily had the fortitude to carry to term. Despite Gileadean laws believing otherwise, periods did not mean you were ready for the stress of a baby, didn’t mean you were an adult. Ofondo laid silently in the hospital bed hours later as the doctor proclaimed that she’d suffered a second trimester miscarriage. She’d expected to be carted off to a new family right away, but Ondo had protested. He said that they ought to keep trying with her- the fact that she’d become pregnant in the first place was a sign from God that she was the Handmaid meant to bless him and his Wife with the gift of a child. Ofondo wasn’t certain if he was desperate for a baby, or didn’t want to let his grip on his hardly-pubescent Handmaid loosen, but in any case, she was given another two years with the Ondo family to try again. And now here she was. “Let us pray for the Lord’s kindness.”

“Of course.” Ondo smiled down at her, finally removing his hand. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Wakana and I will be in shortly with Martha for our final prayer before the Ceremony.”

 _About time_. Ofondo held her tongue, nodding. “I’ll see you then, Commander Ondo.”

“You know you can call me Hideomi when we’re alone together, Ofondo. We’ve known each other long enough.” Even as she remained facing the fireplace, she could almost hear the smile in his voice as the door creaked open once more. “Blessed be the fruit.”

* * *

If a child breaks in a bedroom and nobody around her cares enough to hear it, does she make a sound?

The girl lies down in Miss Wakana’s lap. The girl stares at the ceiling. The girl ignores the thrusts, the grunts. The girl allows her mind to wander. The girl does what Martha tried to do earlier. The girl remembers the time before.

* * *

_Mr. Aizawa had seemingly got tired of teaching, as he was known to do, and officially ended lessons fifteen minutes early in favour of lying down at his desk. Did that guy ever sleep outside of school? Shouko wasn’t sure, but he must not get much rest at home if the rowdy Class 2-A of UA Middle School wasn’t enough to wake him from his slumber. They weren’t as bad as they usually were, actually- she could probably attribute the lower energy levels to everything that had been happening lately. All the new laws, the increasing police force, the constant tense news cycle… It didn’t escape the attention of the middle schoolers._

_She found the sleeve of her black seifuku being tugged on. Casting her gaze from her desk to the source of the pulling, Shouko locked eyes with one Tooru Hagakure. She hadn’t even heard the other girl approach- sometimes people joked about her being ‘the invisible girl’ due to her stealthy way of moving around. However, with flawless peach skin, wavy brown hair, and a loud personality, the girl was anything but a wallflower. “Hey, Todoroki! Come on, the girls are all talking!”_

_Allowing herself to be tugged upwards and walked towards the corner, Shouko silently observed the other six female residents of 2-A in a huddle that opened up for her and Hagakure. She could hear Momo Yaoyorozu whisper-shouting angrily even before she was pulled into the circle. “- And on top of all that, it blatantly goes against the direct orders of the UN’s Commission On The Status of Women! How is the government getting away with this?!”_

_“A truck full of guys with_ actual guns _came to my family’s construction headquarters!” Ochako Uraraka made a nervous whimpering noise, wringing her hands. “They made my dad lay off all the female employees, even my mom!”_

_This certainly wasn’t normal after-school chatter. The tone surrounding the group was noticeably dark, everyone trying to piece things together. Tsuyu Asui brought a hand up to her chin, drumming her fingers against her face. “We got a letter in the mail this morning that the request to change the gender on my passport was denied. They sent a really weird note about how they hoped I’d ‘follow God’s intended path’ from here on out. My parents called city hall to complain, but nobody answered.”_

_“I seriously can’t believe this crap.” Mina Ashido huffed angrily, crossing her arms before bright yellow eyes flickered over to Shouko. “Todoroki, isn’t your dad a member of the National Diet? He’s gonna be able to stop this crazy shit, right?”_

_Over the years, Shouko had gotten very good at keeping her emotions off her face. Now, though, she was especially thankful for that skill- how else was she going to explain to her friends that her father was one of the lawmakers pushing these extreme measures? It had taken her so long to open up socially- a part of her was terrified that she’d be rejected again over that glorified sperm donor. “... I hope so.”_

_“We have to stick together, now more than ever.” Izumi Midoriya piped up, nodding her head resolutely. “I heard of some really scary stuff happening to girls walking around town alone now- we should all make sure we’re keeping an eye out for each other!”_

_Kyoka Jirou made a noise of approval. “Yeah. Y’know, the concert hall my parents work at is gonna put on a show this weekend- all proceeds are going to women’s rights groups. Why don’t you guys come? A big turnout will show those chauvinistic shitheads in power what the people really think!”_

_“That’s a wonderful idea, Kyoka!” Momo spoke up excitedly. “Let’s all go together! Oh, we can make t-shirts with catchy slogans to wear, too! It’ll be a marvellous way to get our feelings out there!”_

_Sounds of agreement ran around the circle. In all honesty, Shouko wasn’t sure her father would even let her go out without a male family member escorting her around. That said, she was sure Natsuo would be willing to lie about where she wanted to go and take her to the concert with her friends- he hated the old bastard’s policies as much as she did. So at least for now, Shouko nodded. “I’m in.”_

* * *

The next thing she knew, it was the following morning. Ofondo laid in her own bed, mind still working through misty thoughts of the past. How funny- they made tee shirts. That was the threat level they thought they were dealing with at the time. Something catchy slogans and puns could defeat. It’s not like she could be mad at herself or her former classmates- they had no idea how severe things were going to get, that this wasn’t the type of movement that could be pushed back with civility and logic. Many tried to do just that. Many now rotted in mass graves.

In any case, the memories of girls from before reminded her that she had shopping with Ofueda today, and she rose up to go shower. Handmaids weren’t allowed to go out without a shopping partner- partially in the name of safety, partially to spy on each other. Keep each other in line. Gilead did a marvellous job of turning women against each other, Ofondo noted as she slipped into her red dress, chest length hair being pulled into a bun and tucked under her bonnet. A few framing pieces and her somewhat shaggy bangs remained outside, but the rest was hidden away under the white cap. Martha had left her breakfast just outside the door to her room- she was allowed to sleep in the morning after the Ceremony- but Ofondo was also never particularly hungry after it, either. She simply left the natto and dried horse mackerel where it was, making her way downstairs. Miss Wakana might get on her case for wasting food later, but it wasn’t worth forcing herself to eat and getting nauseous over.

Nobody was in the living room or front foyer- not surprising. It was a Thursday morning, which would put Ondo at a municipal meeting and Miss Wakana at the weekly sculpting club run by Commander Yamai’s Wife. Martha’s whereabouts were always harder to track, but Ofondo could vaguely hear someone tromping around in the backyard. She was probably working on the fence that lost a couple boards in that nasty storm a few days back. Whatever. Pushing away the vague disappointment in her gut, Ofondo was quick to don her red cloak and signature ‘Wings’- the larger, peripheral blocking bonnet always worn outside. Grabbing a basket off a hook, it became time for her grand entrance into the outside world.

The armed Guardian of The Faith standing outside the gate at the end of the cobblestone path to the door recognized her, opening the iron gate without any sort of fanfare. Another girl in a red cloak and Wings was waiting just outside, her own woven basket in her hands. She turned to greet Ofondo, once-piercing black eyes now void of the same passion they used to carry. Ofueda smiled placidly, nodding in greeting. A long lock of black hair hung just outside her bonnet, waving slightly in the gentle morning breeze. Ofondo silently noted the butterfly closures over her forehead- those certainly weren’t there yesterday- before deciding not to question the injury and just get on with the greeting. “Blessed be the fruit.”

“May the Lord open.” Ofueda’s voice had an almost dreamlike tone, and she abruptly reached out to touch Ofondo’s stomach, making the bicolored girl dart back slightly. “Your Martha mentioned that your Ceremony was last night. Any luck?”

This sort of behaviour was so far away from anything Momo Yaoyorozu would have done, but… She wasn’t here anymore. Hadn’t been for a long time. Ofondo simply bit her lip and swallowed back her quiet rage over the broken bird in front of her. “It’s not like I’ll know either way for a few weeks.”

“Mm.” Ofueda’s gaze turned upwards, and she smiled again before turning left and starting to walk. “So we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

Again with the damn Bible verses. Ofondo has no idea where Ofueda even learned all these- she wasn’t religious before Gilead, and reading was strictly prohibited for women now. They learned a couple key verses in the Red Center, but this girl was practically a walking embodiment of the holy book. Ofondo rolled her eyes, following the other Handmaid along. “Okay.”

The two made their way down the residential street, Ofueda briefly humming an implacable tune before speaking up again. “It’s so warm for February. Perhaps we’ll get an early spring.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad.” As they turned a corner, Ofondo spared a glance to the melting snow banks. “We can pick flowers.”

Ofueda giggled. “I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys. Like a lily among thorns is my darling among the young women. I can make an arrangement for Miss Ochako’s two year anniversary.”

Ah. It was nearly two years since the Prayvaganza where Ochako, fertile and without a ‘sinful’ past, had been married off at random to that boy whose name continued to escape Ofondo. “Right, that’s soon.”

“It is. Perhaps God will grant them a child in good time?” Ofueda spoke with hope in her voice. “She and Mister Tamaki deserve such a blessing.”

Right, that was the guy’s name! Tamaki! He always looked depressed whenever Ofondo saw him out and about, shying away from crowds and reacting with flashes of terror whenever anyone talked to him. Once again, at least that skittish personality meant he probably wasn’t taking advantage of Ochako… But then again, Ofondo remembered her father’s public demeanour versus his treatment of her mother. You never knew just by looking. “I’ll pray for their happiness.”

The other girl nodded, seemingly pleased. “Women will be preserved through the bearing of children if they continue in faith and love and sanctity with self-restraint. Do you have to be home early for anything?”

Heterochromic eyes flicked to the right as Ofondo attempted to recall her schedule. “No.”

“Then would you like to take the long way to the market?” Ofueda turned her head to look at Ofondo. “If we go through the park, we can see if the river is frozen over.”

In the old world, that would have been a laughably boring suggestion. But Gilead was notably short on things like karaoke, purikura booths, and movie theatres. It sounded like as good a proposition as any. “Sure. It’s a decent way to kill some time.”

Beaming, Ofueda turned her head forwards, taking a sharp left to make it to the park quicker. Ofondo followed dutifully, the two girls making their journey in silence, aside from quick greetings when passing a pair of Marthas. Ofondo remembered one of them as being a student at their old school- that strange brunette who served as the only member of the Mushroom Foraging club- but the thirty something with shoulder length teal hair was a stranger. Their neighbourhood wasn’t far from their intended destination, although the area known formerly as Hanzoro Park looked a whole lot different than it did before Japan became Gilead. As the two Handmaids walked past the chain link fence denoting the perimeter and onto the paved pathway, the first clear change was the removal of the play equipment. Ofondo had fond memories of the old jungle gym, ranging from playing Grounder with her siblings to the time she and Ashido huddled surreptitiously in the slide and shared puffs on a cigarette, not realizing that their seifuku would carry the damning scent of smoke for days thanks to them basically hotboxing the place. As she walked by now, all that was left was a large pit of sand marking where they used to play.

A Wife passed them by, proudly pushing a carriage in front of her. Almost instinctively, both girls leant to the side slightly, peeking in to see the chubby face swaddled in blankets beneath the canopy. Ofueda sighed dreamily, swinging her basket a bit more enthusiastically. “What a miracle. Commander Ueda has told me that God shall soon show His infinite forgiveness by blessing me with my own.”

Ofondo’s hands tightened around her own basket, knuckles going white. She… She tried to forget what ‘forgiveness’ meant in Ofueda’s case. Attempted to push away memories of why the dark haired girl had been considered sinful. But the things that keep you up at night don't vanish in the daytime. Ofondo bit her tongue until she tasted blood, mind replaying the moment where she became the worst type of coward.

* * *

_"Your fault. It’s your fault. All your fault.”_

_Momo’s anguished sobs threatened to drown out the chants of the other trainee Handmaids surrounding her, thrashing against the restraints tying her to the chair. Jirou had tried to shout over them that_ this is wrong it’s bullshit it’s torture _and was summarily beaten with the handle of a pistol before being dragged from the room. The removal of her best friend only served to agitate Momo further. “It wasn’t! It wasn’t! He was my brother! I was twelve! Nobody brings that onto themselves!”_

_“You said it yourself- you had on a sleeveless sundress. The responsibility lies entirely on your whorish tempting of an innocent man. And at such a young age, you became a murderer because you couldn’t own up to your own sin.” The bitter voice of an Aunt came from behind Shouko, and she almost jumped as the cold metal of a cattle prod touched her neck. Not shocking her- just threatening to. She hadn’t raised her hand like the others, hadn’t pointed a finger to blame her close friend, and the Aunt had noticed. “Shouko Todoroki. Tell her. Who caused this to happen to Miss Yaoyorozu?”_

_Momo looked over at her, tears spilling down her cheeks, dark eyes pleading with her to do something,_ anything. _Shouko wanted to crumple into a ball, to vanish, float into the air and take Momo out of this horrible place forever. But the cattle prod dug a bit deeper into her neck, and instead of standing by her friend’s side, Shouko raised a hand to point accusingly. “You caused it to happen. Everything was your fault.”_

_“And did she want it to happen?”_

_“You wanted it. You wanted to be raped.”_

_“Did she deserve it?”_

_“Shouko, Shouko, please,_ please-!”

_“You deserved every last second of it.”_

_The other girl wailed, head whipping wildly back as the chants continued, and Shouko realized in growing despair that her own cowardice had ripped a piece of her friend away forever._

_The only one at fault was her._

* * *

She’s shaken back into reality by Ofueda gentle nudging of her arm. “Are you alright? You look awfully pale.”

No, she’s nowhere near okay. She hasn’t been for a while. But as she does with everything else, Ofondo chokes her feelings down, nods. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

The other girl hums, turning back. “When you lie down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet. But we need to get our errands done first, don’t we?”

They passed under the bridge, Ofondo failing to ignore the two bodies hanging from the stone railings. A quick glance at the bags over their heads made their crimes clear- _that one was a gay man, the other one was a scientist._ Pulling her eyes away from the macabre scene, Ofondo sighed deeply, the smell of fresh snow doing very little to mask the smell of decay. Of bodies, of hearts, of minds that once held so much potential. Everything was gone. “I suppose we do.”

Two broken souls pass by two broken bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [flickers the lights on and off] Welcome to hell! Welcome to hell! Welcome to hell! Welcome to h
> 
> While rewatching the TV series, I remembered how much it hurt to watch Janine break down. So why not have it happen to one of my favourite BNHA characters? I love to suffer (and if you made it this far, you probably do too).
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed, and I'll see you soon!

**Author's Note:**

> I've been pondering this fic for a while, and it feels nice to finally publish it. Things seem pretty bleak now, but I promise things will get better for our kiddos eventually! All in good time, all in good time.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed! Under his eye~


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